Our family is fortunate enough to live in a community which often offers fun events for the residents; during the summer, they offer weekly live music in a local park along with food trucks and a small Farmer's Market. The Family of No likes to go there and hang out with friends; the Parents of No like it because it is good entertainment for the low price of free, and the Son of Never Stops Eating likes it because there is always a snow cone truck.
Now, before I continue with the rest of this story, some background information: Dancing is not a Mom of No strength. I have known this from an early age. Somewhere in the family archives there is a photo of me, maybe 5 or 6 years old, in a leotard and tights, looking absolutely miserable. I like to dance when the song is right, but I'm honestly not very good at it. I'm fairly certain that other people are watching me going "what is she doing?". Apparently my dancing is so bad that no one else realizes that is actually what I am doing.
The closer I get to AARP membership eligibility, the more I don't care.
At the last outdoor concert, the music was right, so I moved up to the stage with some friends and started dancing. Right after the dancing festivities commenced, the Teenager walked by with some friends and saw me dancing. It was apparent from her body language that she had seen me and that she was embarrassed by her mother's admittedly bad dancing.
You know what? I am fine with that - because as a parent, I consider it part of my job to embarrass my teenagers. I would be remiss as a parent if I did not, at some point, between the ages of 13 and their departure from under my roof, do something to embarrass my teenagers. I would be missing out on some great opportunities for stories to tell my grandchildren while feeding them huge bowls of ice cream for dinner and telling them that Grandma thought that they should, indeed, be able to get a pony from Santa Claus.
This is why I had kids in the first place: I knew that in return for having my bladder kicked incessantly for two trimesters, maternal weight gain, late night feedings, endless diaper changes, cleaning up projectile vomiting residue from the upholstery in my car when someone ate too much sugar, soccer games in the rain, softball games in blazing heat, school projects involving hard to find materials, endless hours of chauffeuring offspring from place to place, staying up late to pull tooth fairy duty, getting up early on weekends to take offspring to (insert name of activity here), and all the other sacrifices that are part of rearing human young, I would one day get my revenge and the time for that revenge is now.
Paybacks, kids. Paybacks. Remember the time you told that nice police officer that Mommy had started saying bad words that started with the letters "S" and "F" the second she saw your lights in the rear view mirror of the car? Paybacks. Remember the time you threw a huge fit at the grocery store because Mommy said no to Oreo cookies? Paybacks. Remember that time you kept throwing Legos at the sweet older couple in the pew in front of us at church and they were so nice about it but I could tell they thought I should be investing in a big wooden spoon? Big time paybacks.
It is my parental right and privilege to embarrass my teenagers, and I plan to take every opportunity to do so until the moment that they move out of the house- and even then, I may not be quite ready to stop. Teenagers, you have been warned. Not that I actually need to take any positive action on Operation Embarrassing Adolescents; sometimes I suspect that just my mere presence on the same Earth as my teenagers is embarrassment enough. That's okay, too; it doesn't change the indisputable fact of life that She Who Pays the Auto Insurance Bill Makes The Rules.
So, teenagers, I'm not sorry that you're embarrassed. One day, you will have the same opportunity; what goes around comes around. Meanwhile, I need some Aleve or Tylenol or something; dancing is hard on the middle-aged knees. Embarrassing teenagers, however, is so worth it.
Sunday, June 25, 2017
Tuesday, June 20, 2017
Mentor of Happiness
Recently, I was in a situation where the subject of mentoring came up. Questions were being asked about experiences with mentoring and how people had formally or informally mentored others, and one of the participants in the discussion mentioned that he saw himself as the "Mentor of Happiness". The phrase got stuck in my head, and I had to spend some time thinking about it.
I have always thought of mentoring as a formal work-related arrangement, when the experienced older employee takes the young whippersnapper under his or her wing and shows them how to get stuff done without making political mistakes or serious career-ending missteps. In return, the mentee might get the opportunity to give a great emotion-filled speech at his or her mentor's retirement ceremony after reaching his or her own pinnacle of professional success.
Mentoring is broader that that, however. We are all mentors of something, whether we want to be or not- probably whether we realize it or not, especially if you have children. Every parent knows the little turkeys are watching every move you make and every word you say and filing the information away for later use. Parents are constantly the mentors of how to treat other people: when you're nasty or disrespectful to people, the message- intended or not- is that some people are worth less than others. When you make snarky comments about another person's physical appearance, the message is that it's okay to be judgmental.
The reverse is also true; as parents we are also constantly in position to be mentors of how to treat other people with kindness and respect. Sometimes we are unsuccessful and then we have the opportunity to be the mentors of how to apologize and make amends, because people make mistakes.
When the Teenager became old enough to get a learner's permit for driving, I realized that I needed to start being the Mentor of Good Driving Skills. It was time to stop all those questionable practices like speeding up to go through yellow lights, not really stopping at stop signs or making snarky comments about the driving skills of other drivers*. I wanted to avoid being in the awkward position of telling her not to do something and get that great teenager response: But Mom, YOU do it all the time! Most importantly, I wanted to model good defensive driving strategies and good driving habits to my teenaged learner. Telling her to always use her turn signal and failing to do it myself is not good mentoring.
My father was the mentor of managing money responsibly; he was also my mentor of the strategic use of good sarcasm (Shut that door! I don't want to air condition the entire state!). I found it annoying as a teenager but those skills came in really useful once I became an adult. Thanks, Dad!
Some people are mentors of a bad attitude, or mentors of unnecessary drama. Not only do they do it, but their actions are infectious. They can bring down a group of friends or even an entire organization.
Fortunately, some people are mentors of a good work ethic, or mentors of civic involvement, or mentors of working hard to improve the lives of other people. Not only do they embody those characteristics in their own lives, but they somehow manage to encourage other people to follow along just by example. Some people really are mentors of happiness; they are just always happy or optimistic, no matter what is happening, and when you are around them, you feel happy too. The world needs all the good mentors it can get, so think about it- what kind of mentor are you?
*For the record, as a mentor of being honest about myself- I do sometimes still do this but I try to do it only when I'm driving by myself. I try to limit it to the most egregious faults. I'm working on it.
I have always thought of mentoring as a formal work-related arrangement, when the experienced older employee takes the young whippersnapper under his or her wing and shows them how to get stuff done without making political mistakes or serious career-ending missteps. In return, the mentee might get the opportunity to give a great emotion-filled speech at his or her mentor's retirement ceremony after reaching his or her own pinnacle of professional success.
Mentoring is broader that that, however. We are all mentors of something, whether we want to be or not- probably whether we realize it or not, especially if you have children. Every parent knows the little turkeys are watching every move you make and every word you say and filing the information away for later use. Parents are constantly the mentors of how to treat other people: when you're nasty or disrespectful to people, the message- intended or not- is that some people are worth less than others. When you make snarky comments about another person's physical appearance, the message is that it's okay to be judgmental.
The reverse is also true; as parents we are also constantly in position to be mentors of how to treat other people with kindness and respect. Sometimes we are unsuccessful and then we have the opportunity to be the mentors of how to apologize and make amends, because people make mistakes.
When the Teenager became old enough to get a learner's permit for driving, I realized that I needed to start being the Mentor of Good Driving Skills. It was time to stop all those questionable practices like speeding up to go through yellow lights, not really stopping at stop signs or making snarky comments about the driving skills of other drivers*. I wanted to avoid being in the awkward position of telling her not to do something and get that great teenager response: But Mom, YOU do it all the time! Most importantly, I wanted to model good defensive driving strategies and good driving habits to my teenaged learner. Telling her to always use her turn signal and failing to do it myself is not good mentoring.
My father was the mentor of managing money responsibly; he was also my mentor of the strategic use of good sarcasm (Shut that door! I don't want to air condition the entire state!). I found it annoying as a teenager but those skills came in really useful once I became an adult. Thanks, Dad!
Some people are mentors of a bad attitude, or mentors of unnecessary drama. Not only do they do it, but their actions are infectious. They can bring down a group of friends or even an entire organization.
Fortunately, some people are mentors of a good work ethic, or mentors of civic involvement, or mentors of working hard to improve the lives of other people. Not only do they embody those characteristics in their own lives, but they somehow manage to encourage other people to follow along just by example. Some people really are mentors of happiness; they are just always happy or optimistic, no matter what is happening, and when you are around them, you feel happy too. The world needs all the good mentors it can get, so think about it- what kind of mentor are you?
*For the record, as a mentor of being honest about myself- I do sometimes still do this but I try to do it only when I'm driving by myself. I try to limit it to the most egregious faults. I'm working on it.
Thursday, June 15, 2017
Summer Vacation
One recent Sunday, I was up early preparing to go on a hike with a friend. The house was quiet, the air was still cool, and it seemed like everyone else in the household was asleep (except for the dog, who was sitting next to me hoping for a treat) until I looked up from lacing my hiking boots and saw the Son of Never Stops Eating standing in front of me.
Son: Mom, will you get donuts?
Me: I don't know. Why should I get donuts?
Son: It's Sunday. You always get donuts on Sunday.
Me: Maybe I want something in return.
Son: (looking concerned) Like what?
Me: Like more deodorant use in this house.
Son: Mom, it's summer! No one uses deodorant in summer!
This is one of the fundamental differences between adulthood and childhood: when you are a kid, summer is different because you aren't in school and you can be lazy and sleep in. When you're a grownup, the difference between summer and all the other seasons is that it's hotter and you spend more time praying to the A/C gods that the air conditioning doesn't break on the 4th of July.
The Son of Never Stops Eating seems to think that summer vacation means that you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. The other night he was lobbying heavily for an all-day trip to Legoland. He won two passes in a contest a few months ago, and he's been driving me crazy about it ever since. Practically every day,he'll ask me if we can go to Legoland tomorrow, and I'll tell him I have to go to work.
Tell your boss, he says, that you need to take your son to Legoland. That's more important than work. Just take the day off, Mom!
If my boss is reading this (or even if he's not), I'd actually probably rather be at work. Seriously. The image of being at Legoland with hundreds of screaming kids on summer vacation is migraine-inducing. I have a headache just thinking about it. I actually prefer my cubicle, where it's quiet and no one is hitting me up to buy Minecraft Lego kits for $149.99.
The Son of Never Stops Eating has already started in on the "I'm bored!" ritual of summer vacation. My suggestions usually don't go over well. For example, I suggested the other day that if he was bored, he could clean his room.
Mom, he responded, kids don't want to clean their rooms on summer vacation. They want to have fun! They want to do fun things like go swimming and getting snow cones and going to Legoland and Target!
Well, we can go to Target, I told him. We can get stuff to clean your room.
MOM! He replied, exasperated. I want to go to Target to get fun stuff! Not cleaning stuff and NOT school supplies!
Maybe I need to adopt the same attitude towards summer. I need the Mom summer vacation. No cleaning, no paperwork, no chauffeur services (You want to go to the snow cone stand? Start walking!), no banking transactions (Oh, you want your allowance? Sorry, the Bank of Mom is closed for summer vacation! See you in September!). I could even take a vacation from nagging my offspring (the Teenager would probably love that). Out of snacks? That is a sad story! I'll get some after school starts. Until then, help yourself to the carrot sticks!
Summer vacation, as the teenager is finding out, is an ephemeral thing; there is no real vacation from adulthood. In all seriousness, I want the Son of Never Stops Eating to enjoy summer while it lasts for him. I'll even spring for some snow cones and drive him to the pool. But, unfortunately for him, there is no summer vacation from deodorant.
Son: Mom, will you get donuts?
Me: I don't know. Why should I get donuts?
Son: It's Sunday. You always get donuts on Sunday.
Me: Maybe I want something in return.
Son: (looking concerned) Like what?
Me: Like more deodorant use in this house.
Son: Mom, it's summer! No one uses deodorant in summer!
This is one of the fundamental differences between adulthood and childhood: when you are a kid, summer is different because you aren't in school and you can be lazy and sleep in. When you're a grownup, the difference between summer and all the other seasons is that it's hotter and you spend more time praying to the A/C gods that the air conditioning doesn't break on the 4th of July.
The Son of Never Stops Eating seems to think that summer vacation means that you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. The other night he was lobbying heavily for an all-day trip to Legoland. He won two passes in a contest a few months ago, and he's been driving me crazy about it ever since. Practically every day,he'll ask me if we can go to Legoland tomorrow, and I'll tell him I have to go to work.
Tell your boss, he says, that you need to take your son to Legoland. That's more important than work. Just take the day off, Mom!
If my boss is reading this (or even if he's not), I'd actually probably rather be at work. Seriously. The image of being at Legoland with hundreds of screaming kids on summer vacation is migraine-inducing. I have a headache just thinking about it. I actually prefer my cubicle, where it's quiet and no one is hitting me up to buy Minecraft Lego kits for $149.99.
The Son of Never Stops Eating has already started in on the "I'm bored!" ritual of summer vacation. My suggestions usually don't go over well. For example, I suggested the other day that if he was bored, he could clean his room.
Mom, he responded, kids don't want to clean their rooms on summer vacation. They want to have fun! They want to do fun things like go swimming and getting snow cones and going to Legoland and Target!
Well, we can go to Target, I told him. We can get stuff to clean your room.
MOM! He replied, exasperated. I want to go to Target to get fun stuff! Not cleaning stuff and NOT school supplies!
Maybe I need to adopt the same attitude towards summer. I need the Mom summer vacation. No cleaning, no paperwork, no chauffeur services (You want to go to the snow cone stand? Start walking!), no banking transactions (Oh, you want your allowance? Sorry, the Bank of Mom is closed for summer vacation! See you in September!). I could even take a vacation from nagging my offspring (the Teenager would probably love that). Out of snacks? That is a sad story! I'll get some after school starts. Until then, help yourself to the carrot sticks!
Summer vacation, as the teenager is finding out, is an ephemeral thing; there is no real vacation from adulthood. In all seriousness, I want the Son of Never Stops Eating to enjoy summer while it lasts for him. I'll even spring for some snow cones and drive him to the pool. But, unfortunately for him, there is no summer vacation from deodorant.
Friday, June 9, 2017
Working Woman
The other day, the Teenager and a friend went to Target. When the Teenager returned home, she had exciting news for me: she'd seen a book there she thought I should buy. It was a book of advice for working women. Since I am also the Mom of Frugal, I decided that I'd rather keep my $20. If it shows up at the local library, I might give this intriguing work of literature a try.
I've been working since I was sixteen. At this point in my working life, I could probably write a book about being a working woman. I'm fairly certain that no one would actually read it, though; I'm not famous and/or wealthy. Also, the problem with these kinds of books is that they usually don't really help you solve the underlying problems that cause you to read these books in the first place. When I was a young working mother I would read books on how to be a successful working mother and survive, but eventually I realized that what I really needed was for Grandma to move in next door, and that wasn't going to be happening.
I've been working for over 30 years, and I've learned a few things, some of which I will share with you. Put your money away; the Mom of No is going to be the Mom of Sharing Great Information for Free.
The crock-pot is your friend. You can cook almost anything in a crock-pot, and it usually tastes rather good. If for some reason your crock-pot meal is not edible, there is no shame in going through a drive-thru. Some people have amazing time management skills and are able to work a full day and then put a gourmet meal on the table for their family. I am not one of those people, and if you aren't, either, then that is okay.
If you are snarky with your boss, you will probably get fired. I learned this lesson the hard way; when I was a college kid, I had a summer job at a locally well known waterpark. My first day of work, I was driving down the highway and the timing belt of my aging vehicle decided to break. I was late for work (not the best first impression) and the job went downhill from there. After putting up with a few weeks of what I (and most of my co-workers) considered to be ridiculous rules, my mouth got the better of me and I got myself fired.
The corollary lesson here is that just because a certain location is a fun place to go hang out with your friends doesn't mean that it's a fun place to work. Also, this experience has made me somewhat paranoid about timing belts.
If you ever have to take a breast pump through airport security, you will probably be asked about what it is and how it works, especially if the security agent scanning your carry-on bag is a man. You really can't do anything about that; just be prepared to explain without your face turning bright red with embarrassment.
You can safely assume that the day you have a very important meeting or a very important conference call is also the same day that your child's daycare or school will call you to inform you that you need to pick up your child right now because they have a 100 degree fever and a weird rash. If at all possible, have a backup plan.
Your relationships with your co-workers will stand a better chance of being decent if you aren't the person who never cleans old leftovers out of the refrigerator. Bring donuts every now and then- unless you work with health fanatics, and then bring a healthy treat like cut up seasonal fruit along with the donuts.
Stay out of the stay at home vs working mother argument. It is one of those ongoing debates that will probably never be resolved. Find a couple of other working mothers and text each other supportive thoughts, links to great crock pot recipes and, perhaps most importantly, the snarky comments you can't say to your boss.
If you ever find yourself sitting alone in your car in a parking lot screaming 'I am so tired!" or other cries of frustration, congratulations; you are not alone. Scream away. It won't solve any of your problems but you will probably feel better, at least temporarily. Also, it's free.
If any of these tried and true tips work for you, then I think that's great, and I'm glad I could help. If they don't, just remember that at least it didn't cost you anything except a few minutes of time to read them.
I've been working since I was sixteen. At this point in my working life, I could probably write a book about being a working woman. I'm fairly certain that no one would actually read it, though; I'm not famous and/or wealthy. Also, the problem with these kinds of books is that they usually don't really help you solve the underlying problems that cause you to read these books in the first place. When I was a young working mother I would read books on how to be a successful working mother and survive, but eventually I realized that what I really needed was for Grandma to move in next door, and that wasn't going to be happening.
I've been working for over 30 years, and I've learned a few things, some of which I will share with you. Put your money away; the Mom of No is going to be the Mom of Sharing Great Information for Free.
The crock-pot is your friend. You can cook almost anything in a crock-pot, and it usually tastes rather good. If for some reason your crock-pot meal is not edible, there is no shame in going through a drive-thru. Some people have amazing time management skills and are able to work a full day and then put a gourmet meal on the table for their family. I am not one of those people, and if you aren't, either, then that is okay.
If you are snarky with your boss, you will probably get fired. I learned this lesson the hard way; when I was a college kid, I had a summer job at a locally well known waterpark. My first day of work, I was driving down the highway and the timing belt of my aging vehicle decided to break. I was late for work (not the best first impression) and the job went downhill from there. After putting up with a few weeks of what I (and most of my co-workers) considered to be ridiculous rules, my mouth got the better of me and I got myself fired.
The corollary lesson here is that just because a certain location is a fun place to go hang out with your friends doesn't mean that it's a fun place to work. Also, this experience has made me somewhat paranoid about timing belts.
If you ever have to take a breast pump through airport security, you will probably be asked about what it is and how it works, especially if the security agent scanning your carry-on bag is a man. You really can't do anything about that; just be prepared to explain without your face turning bright red with embarrassment.
You can safely assume that the day you have a very important meeting or a very important conference call is also the same day that your child's daycare or school will call you to inform you that you need to pick up your child right now because they have a 100 degree fever and a weird rash. If at all possible, have a backup plan.
Your relationships with your co-workers will stand a better chance of being decent if you aren't the person who never cleans old leftovers out of the refrigerator. Bring donuts every now and then- unless you work with health fanatics, and then bring a healthy treat like cut up seasonal fruit along with the donuts.
Stay out of the stay at home vs working mother argument. It is one of those ongoing debates that will probably never be resolved. Find a couple of other working mothers and text each other supportive thoughts, links to great crock pot recipes and, perhaps most importantly, the snarky comments you can't say to your boss.
If you ever find yourself sitting alone in your car in a parking lot screaming 'I am so tired!" or other cries of frustration, congratulations; you are not alone. Scream away. It won't solve any of your problems but you will probably feel better, at least temporarily. Also, it's free.
If any of these tried and true tips work for you, then I think that's great, and I'm glad I could help. If they don't, just remember that at least it didn't cost you anything except a few minutes of time to read them.
Sunday, June 4, 2017
The Mom of Nagging
The older the offspring get, the more I feel compelled to nag them about stuff I think they should be doing and are not doing, or stuff they are doing that I think they should not be doing. I'm not sure why that is, except that maybe, with every passing day, I'm becoming more and more aware that my window of opportunity to influence their ways is about to close. When they were in elementary school, I felt that I had plenty of time, so I didn't feel the urge to nag as much.
Now, especially since both the Teenager and the Son of Never Stops Eating are in high school and May 2018 graduation is a huge freight train with non-functioning brakes barreling downhill in my direction while I stand in the middle of the train tracks staring at it, unable to jump out of the way before impact, I feel like it's time for 24/7 parental nagging. After all, there are only about 15 months before we'll be dropping the Teenager off at some college residence hall somewhere and driving away. Nagging by text is not, in my opinion, as effective as in-person nagging. I have to get it all in now while I still can.
I know they both find this annoying. The other day, I was reminding (OK, nagging) the Teenager that she needed to finish her driving times before the end of August. I could tell that she was irritated, but you know what? The end of August is only THREE months away! And, as every band parent knows, the month of August is really not available for anything other than marching, coming home, taking a nap, and going back to march some more. So really, June and July. That's only TWO months! Come on, that car isn't going to parallel park itself!
When she reads this, she'll probably be annoyed some more and accuse me of nagging by blog, which I suppose I am doing. Dear Teenager, consider yourself nagged for the day.
During the elementary school years, I'd gently remind them that they needed to finish their homework or make sure that the soccer uniform was ready to go, knowing that if they didn't follow through then the worst that might happen would be a bad grade or not being able to play in the game. Suffering the consequences of a bad choice would be a good learning experience, so I was being a good mom by not nagging them incessantly.
Now, it's crunch time! Stuff's starting to get real! Time to fill out college applications! Take exams! Find out about scholarships! Do you think I want you living in my basement for ten years because you forgot to send out your high school transcript? I'm being a good mom by nagging you! I'm watching out for you because I love you!
Actually, no one can live in my basement because I don't have a basement. Any boomerang kids would probably have to set up a tent in the back yard, and it gets hot here in the summer.
I actually have taken my nagging lessons from the Son of Never Stops Eating, who is truly the master of the art. We'll have conversations like this:
Son; When can I go to Legoland this summer?
Me: I don't know yet.
Son: I really want to go to Legoland.
Me: I know. I have to look at my work schedule.
Son: Don't forget, Mom. I need to go to Legoland.
(five minutes later)
Son: Mom, when we go to Legoland, how much money can I have?
Me: Hey, by the way, you need to put your clothes away in your closet.
Son: MOM! You already told me once yesterday! I know! I know!
(five minutes later)
Son: Mom, when we go to Legoland I'm going to get a Lego Minecraft set.
Me: Did you put-
Son: Mom! I know what to do! Stop pestering me.
I know my kids don't like to be nagged. I don't like to be nagged. No one likes to be nagged. I swear that this is just a temporary thing. When the offspring leave home and go off to college or move into their own apartment, I promise not to text them all the time and pester them about things like eating healthy meals, making dentist appointments or paying tuition. However, I have only a short time left before they fledge the nest and fly away. So, about those transcripts....
Now, especially since both the Teenager and the Son of Never Stops Eating are in high school and May 2018 graduation is a huge freight train with non-functioning brakes barreling downhill in my direction while I stand in the middle of the train tracks staring at it, unable to jump out of the way before impact, I feel like it's time for 24/7 parental nagging. After all, there are only about 15 months before we'll be dropping the Teenager off at some college residence hall somewhere and driving away. Nagging by text is not, in my opinion, as effective as in-person nagging. I have to get it all in now while I still can.
I know they both find this annoying. The other day, I was reminding (OK, nagging) the Teenager that she needed to finish her driving times before the end of August. I could tell that she was irritated, but you know what? The end of August is only THREE months away! And, as every band parent knows, the month of August is really not available for anything other than marching, coming home, taking a nap, and going back to march some more. So really, June and July. That's only TWO months! Come on, that car isn't going to parallel park itself!
When she reads this, she'll probably be annoyed some more and accuse me of nagging by blog, which I suppose I am doing. Dear Teenager, consider yourself nagged for the day.
During the elementary school years, I'd gently remind them that they needed to finish their homework or make sure that the soccer uniform was ready to go, knowing that if they didn't follow through then the worst that might happen would be a bad grade or not being able to play in the game. Suffering the consequences of a bad choice would be a good learning experience, so I was being a good mom by not nagging them incessantly.
Now, it's crunch time! Stuff's starting to get real! Time to fill out college applications! Take exams! Find out about scholarships! Do you think I want you living in my basement for ten years because you forgot to send out your high school transcript? I'm being a good mom by nagging you! I'm watching out for you because I love you!
Actually, no one can live in my basement because I don't have a basement. Any boomerang kids would probably have to set up a tent in the back yard, and it gets hot here in the summer.
I actually have taken my nagging lessons from the Son of Never Stops Eating, who is truly the master of the art. We'll have conversations like this:
Son; When can I go to Legoland this summer?
Me: I don't know yet.
Son: I really want to go to Legoland.
Me: I know. I have to look at my work schedule.
Son: Don't forget, Mom. I need to go to Legoland.
(five minutes later)
Son: Mom, when we go to Legoland, how much money can I have?
Me: Hey, by the way, you need to put your clothes away in your closet.
Son: MOM! You already told me once yesterday! I know! I know!
(five minutes later)
Son: Mom, when we go to Legoland I'm going to get a Lego Minecraft set.
Me: Did you put-
Son: Mom! I know what to do! Stop pestering me.
I know my kids don't like to be nagged. I don't like to be nagged. No one likes to be nagged. I swear that this is just a temporary thing. When the offspring leave home and go off to college or move into their own apartment, I promise not to text them all the time and pester them about things like eating healthy meals, making dentist appointments or paying tuition. However, I have only a short time left before they fledge the nest and fly away. So, about those transcripts....
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